


Nine Winters

by ghosteye99



Category: Star Trek Voyager
Genre: AU, Angst, Darkfic, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance, first admiral's timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosteye99/pseuds/ghosteye99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight AU to the first Admiral’s timeline. Janeway extends a hand to Chakotay after a crisis, but do things work out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Winters

**Author's Note:**

> Written in October 2012 for the livejournal /st-20-fics challenge. Prompt: 016. (Table 10): "There's more to life than __."
> 
> Warnings/Spoilers: Mention of depression/suicide/alcohol abuse/relationship breakdown & character death, Slight spoilers for Endgame. More on the bleaker side of J/C; Janeway and Chakotay don’t always behave like saints. (I chose a Mature rating for the suicide mention)
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures and CBS, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon

**Admiral Janeway’s Apartment, San Francisco, Earth, Year 2404:**

It was nearing the end of the ninth winter since they’d returned, and as soon as Kathryn had got home from work, she changed out of her uniform into something warmer. She could have used her apartment’s climate controls instead, and thirty years ago, when she was still Voyager’s new captain, she would have - but nowadays, she felt more used to just adapting. It was an old habit, one she’d acquired far from home, and a long time ago.

Barely had she adjusted her sweater and replicated some tea, than she went to her PADD to message a friend. He’d been very down over the last few months; and this winter he seemed to be a lot worse. Kathryn worried about him, and made it a point to check in on him every evening.

The message status blinked on ‘sending’ for over half a minute, but - knowing him - she waited. Still, he took a lot longer than usual to reply. Kathryn was just about to abort the link and beam over to check on him, when the status changed to ‘received’, and a second later, the screen changed to show a dishevelled, white-haired man in a stained sleeping tunic.

“Yes?” he snapped.

“Chakotay?” Kathryn replied, “It’s just me again, checking in to see how things are with you.”  
“Well, I think things with me are going well enough,” Chakotay said, bluntly. “So there was really no need for you to waste your time!”

“No … of course not,” she said, gently. “But you know how it is with me. I consider my crew to be part of my family, and if anyone of my family is in trouble, then I’m not going to just stand by and ...”

“Well, I’m not in trouble,” he cut in, “so you can just stop it! Maybe you could consider leaving me in peace for just once in a while.”

“Of course, Chakotay, I’ll …”

Kathryn didn’t get the chance to finish her reply. The screen of the PADD flashed back to the Starfleet logo as Chakotay abruptly ended the message. She reached for her still-hot tea, and pushed her PADD out of the way when she realised her hand was shaking almost enough to spill her cup…

**-o0o-**

**On Board the USS Voyager, The Delta Quadrant, Year 2380:**

…For the rest of her life, Kathryn would count it as one of the worst days she’d known. Seven had beamed down with Paris and Chakotay on a routine away mission to get some trace minerals needed for the ship.

Four hours later, the team was caught in a lava tunnel cave-in that Seven got the worst of. She was beamed back in to Sick Bay literally crushed into pieces; most of what was left of her died while cradled in her husband’s arms. The Doctor couldn’t do anything to save her, and soon, there was yet another funeral to conduct.

Chakotay stood silent through the service, his face looking like it could have been cast out of Duranium. He said a few words when he had to, retreated to the back of the crowd as others took their turn … and as Seven’s remains were ejected into space, he quietly walked out of the hall.

Only Kathryn, B’Elanna and Tom saw his early exit. Unanimously, they let him be. She herself nearly broke several times through the service, and, like Chakotay, left as soon as she was able to.

She remembered little of the next few weeks, except for them passing in a slow, hellish blur … she’d grieved over Seven like a daughter, and with the death of another crewman two months later, it was nearly a year before things even started to get anywhere near normality on the ship.  
And for one of those whom Seven had left behind, normality would never really return…

**-o0o-**

**The Officer’s Bar, Starfleet Command, 2404:**

“Are you sure you haven’t really thought about it … at least just a little?” Brackett asked, peering quizzically at Kathryn over her coffee.

Kathryn shook her head, and picked up her tea. “No, not any longer,” she replied. “Those days are over for me, and I’ve come to like things better that way. I certainly don’t miss all the stress and distractions that come with maintaining a romantic life.”

It was now the other Admiral’s turn to shake her head.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to beg to differ.” Brackett replied, “I find the stress is quite a small price to pay for what you get, and the distraction part is really just a matter of good management. Now, I noticed Admiral Moss has been quite …”

“…No, no, _no!_ ” Kathryn, becoming irritated, waved off her matchmaking suggestion. “I told you,” she insisted, “I’m quite past that. I’m not in the market … maybe you should suggest him to some of your other friends. Alynna, perhaps?”

“Alynna is already seeing Captain McKenzie,” Brackett replied, with a conspirational cock of an eyebrow.

“McKenzie?” Kathryn exclaimed, in mock consternation. “He’s young enough to be her son!”

“But not her _grandson._ ” Brackett replied, with a sly grin.

“Well,” Kathryn sighed, “I suppose that’s true …”

“The point is,” Brackett continued, “you shouldn’t keep on thinking that you’re past it. Alynna’s older than you, and you’re only seventy-five; you’ve still got another twenty five to thirty good years ahead of you, at least. And to be honest, Kathryn, you don’t really strike me as the loner type. Thirty years is a lot of time to waste, and I don’t think you should keep on pushing away good opportunities.”

“Well, there is a time to dream,” Kathryn replied, stiffly, “and a time to accept reality. I exchanged dreams for reality a long time ago.”

Brackett gave Kathryn another questioning look, but before she could press further, Kathryn’s commbadge chimed.

“Janeway here,” she replied. “ _You are required in Admiral Watt’s office,_ ” the aide who’d hailed said. “ _He wants to discuss arrangements for that guest lecturing date at Starfleet Communications._ ”

“Acknowledged,” Kathryn replied. “I’ll be there soon. Janeway out.”

“Well, I’ll have to leave you alone with your coffee,” she quipped to Brackett, picking up a thin stack of PADDS from the table. “Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brackett said, “and do think about what I just said.”  
“Later,” Kathryn quipped, and headed quickly out the bar before the other could get a chance to reply.

**-o0o-**

**On Board Voyager, 2384:**

It had been an unusually successful day, and the Pathfinder project was online. Kathryn had just submitted her weekly report to Starfleet, and she’d also given Admiral Paris a quick summary of the day’s events. There was even enough time left for a few minutes of small talk.

“How’s Miral been today, Captain?” he asked. Any mention of his granddaughter instantly brought out the Admiral’s warmer side, and he couldn’t ever get enough of any news about her.

“She behaved herself mostly during her school session,” Kathryn replied, with a small grin. “Then she spent some time with Flotter on the holodeck, and later I took her out to the airponics bay to help Golwat with the plants.”

“You took her out?” Owen replied, somewhat concerned. “I hope you didn’t cut your own duties short, Captain.”

“It’s been a quiet week, and I was on off-shift,” She replied. “Besides, B’Elanna and Tom both just happened to have a lot more on their hands than I did at the time, so I was glad to be able to help out for once. Miral can be a handful at time - but once you know your way around her, she is also quite a pleasure to be around.”

The Admiral looked thoughtful for a second, and then he said, “Kathryn … while I’ve still got the time to, I hope you don’t mind me making a few personal observations.”

“Not at all,” She replied, a little guardedly. “I trust your judgement … what is it that you want to tell me?”

After a quick check of his chronometer, Owen looked back at her, and said; “I don’t know for exactly how many years longer you will be out there, and it’s quite possible that by the time you come home, Miral might be a grown young woman and I might be gone. I hope, whatever happens, that she still gets the chance to make some sort of a full life for herself - whether it be on your ship, or back here on Earth.”

“I’ll do my best to help her to find that,” Kathryn said, “You have my word …”

“… And this applies you as well, Kathryn.” Owen continued. “I’m aware that it’s getting past the time for you to start a family of your own, and I’m very sorry that things turned out the way it did for you there.”

“But,” he added, “you still don’t have to remain alone … I know when you started this mission there’d been some stricter new protocols put in regarding fraternizations with senior officers, but you don’t have to treat them as if they were the Prime Directive. There have since been provisions made for certain circumstances, and you’ll be able to find them updated into your database. Your own situation would qualify. Kathryn, if there is anyone …”  
“Admiral …” Kathryn replied.  
“Please let me finish,” Owen insisted, “There’s not much transmission time left. Look, I know Captains are required to make personal sacrifices and maintain a professional distance to stay impartial, but those rules were made for a part of the galaxy where there’s always a starbase or colony around somewhere to safely store your personal life.”

“Kathryn, you only have this ship.” He continued, “If there is someone for you on board, now or sometime in the future … then I promise you, I will support your case if there’s any trouble over it.”

“These things can go wrong,” Kathryn cut in, “I can’t let myself do it, I can’t risk the ship being endangered because of a lover’s spat with one of my officers.”

“Don’t forget that you’re not alone now,” Owen said, checking the chronometer again. “There are Starfleet counsellors available should you ever need them. But I also have trust in your judgement as well. Judging by your records, I believe you to be capable of retaining impartiality in any relationship.”

“I just hope that your trust in me in that area will not be misplaced.” She replied, sceptically.  
“I’ll count on you to keep trying to do the right thing, Kathryn,” Owen said. “And you might pass some of my advice onto your First Officer as well. I know he must have loved Seven, but four years is too long a time to stay in mourning.”

**-o0o-**

**Admiral Janeway’s Apartment, 2404:**

“Chakotay … are you home?” Kathryn said to the screen, but she could see only the blink of the word ‘sending’ on the status tab, and the Starfleet logo filling the rest. She had left it on send for six minutes now, without answer.

She was debating now whether to abort the message, or leave it on send. There was a transportation booth near her apartment, she could take that to Chakotay’s house, and risk a visit. It was raining, but not windy, and a little cold water never hurt anyway.

He would probably chew her out, maybe even try to physically get her away from his property, but Kathryn was prepared for that. Even in the depths of his depression, he’d never let himself use more force than necessary, nor did he request any legal restraints to be placed on her.

She took that as a positive sign, that there was something still left in him that wanted to reach out of his despair … though her hopes for him were gradually eroding as he grew worse with each passing winter since their homecoming.

Kathryn looked outside at the abating rain, and decided to see him. She quickly grabbed a jacket and an umbrella, then found her commbadge and made sure it was securely fastened to her sweater. Then she took the stairs down, and made the dash out to the transporter booth.

Once there, she gave the booth’s computer the coordinates to Chakotay’s suburb. “Energise!” she commanded, and the light enveloped her…

… She rematerialised. Stepping outside the booth, she noticed it was slightly later in the evening, and the weather a fair bit warmer – but that was to be expected in Mexico City. Chakotay’s home lay on the outskirts, in a quiet, respectable old 22nd Century suburb.

She knew the way, by now she could probably even close her eyes and get there without becoming lost. Turn left, walk three blocks, then turn right up the next street just past the traditional Mexican replimat (the food from there was fairly good, and she planned on getting her dinner from it on the way back).

Chakotay’s apartment was two blocks up, the red earth stucco one with the sky blue trim, and the soap-yuccas and silver lupins growing on the strip. He lived on the third floor. A human starship engineer and a Bolian pilot lived on the two floors below him, but both were often away on assignments.

There had been a human family living above him, but they’d recently moved out, and that flat was still empty. Aware of Chakotay’s increased isolation, Kathryn had become more diligent in keeping a watch out for his welfare.

She walked up the steps to his door, and knocked. Inside, she heard something thump and rustle, followed by the sound of heavy, shuffling footsteps. Something thumped against the door, and she heard a familiar voice.

“Who is it?”

“Chakotay,” she replied, “it’s me, Kathryn. I just wanted to make sure that you were …”  
“Go to hell!” Chakotay snarled back, from behind the closed door – and then she heard a heavy thump hit it, like a fist to the metal … followed by the sound of his footsteps as he walked away.

_‘Go to hell.’_

Those fateful words still cut as hard into her psyche as they’d done thirty years ago, when he’d first uttered them to her. Kathryn forced herself to relax enough to be able to breath again … and after a moment, she turned and headed back down the stairs to go.

It wasn’t much of a welcome, but at least he didn’t threaten to do anything, and she knew he was still alive. On the way down the steps, something on the ground floor landing caught Kathryn’s eye. It looked like some shattered pieces of stone, and she wondered why she didn’t see it when she’d walked in.

Picking one up, she noticed it had a marks that looked like it had been carved in. She gathered up the rest, and fitted them together. And recognised it – it was the stone from Chakotay’s medicine bundle, the same one that he’d picked up in the Delta Quadrant after he’d lost his first one.

Kathryn looked back up to the door from which it had likely been thrown, and a sudden, nasty chill ran through her. She searched through her jacket until she found a handkerchief to wrap it in, then pocketed it, and headed home.

**-o0o-**

**On Board Voyager, 2384:**

Owen Paris didn’t bring up the subject again with Kathryn. The Pathfinder discussions he’d had with her after that remained all Starfleet business; and he kept any personal stuff to private conversations with Tom, Miral and B’Elanna.

But Kathryn couldn’t ever forget what the Admiral had told her; _"… you still don’t have to remain alone …"_

And though she tried each time to put what he’d said down to a lapse brought on by the paternal longings of a man too many light years from his son and granddaughter – his words still kept coming back to her consciousness, nipping more at her resolve each time they did.

After the talk, Kathryn found no more solace in Michael Sullivan. One evening, she holographically duplicated herself as Katie O’Clare, and left her with him. After the business with Kashyk and Jaffen, she’d also seriously rethought the ethics of seeking closeness with any alien she might take on board, especially one who might soon miss his home, or be of questionable character – or want to formally join her crew; not that the last seemed such a problem, now.

And yes, she did begin to think of Chakotay a lot more. And as she watched him, she noticed the deadness that was still in his eyes, and thought of the Admiral’s words.

Perhaps … she could make a difference for him, if she went about things right. And maybe – though some guilt still stung her over the needs that aroused when she thought of it – maybe he could, if he wanted to, make a difference for _her_.

A month after Admiral Paris’s talk, Kathryn shyly began to reach out again to Ckakotay. And he - cautiously, gradually, began to accept the greater closeness she offered him…

**-o0o-**

**Admiral Janeway’s Apartment, 2404:**

Kathryn didn’t stop by the replimat on the way back. She didn’t feel like eating much more than what she could replicate at home, and even then only because she knew that if she didn’t, her blood sugar would drop too far and give her headaches. She also knew, though it was lax of her, that whenever Chakotay was like this, it would demoralise her to some degree.

Back in her apartment, she replicated herself a small sandwich and some black tea, and took her dinner back to her table where one of her personal work PADDs waited. She finished her meal while replying to text messages from five Starfleet Captains - the other eight would require a subspace vid. She’d set up her sitting room as a second office, and they could be done there if she refreshed her uniform and changed back into it – both of which wouldn’t take long.

There was still time to finish her tea, and take another look at Chakotay’s broken stone. She removed it from her pocket, and carefully fitted the pieces to each other. “I wonder …” she said quietly to herself, thinking of a way she could mend it. Apart from two small chips that were missing, she might be able to make it almost as good as new.

Gathering up the pieces of the stone, she carefully arranged them on her replicator, until they were fitted together as tightly as she could get them, and then she adjusted the settings to repair mode.  
“Simple repair,” Kathryn ordered, “solid matter.”

The stone shimmered and vanished, and then it rematerialised, whole. She picked it up, and carefully checked it for weaknesses. Apart from two scratches where the missing chips were, it was now perfectly restored.

She put it down on the sitting room table next to her work PADD, and then went off to refresh her uniform, and changed back into it so she could finish her messages. By the time the next hour was almost over, she was finally free to get to sleep.

Kathryn picked up Chakotay’s medicine stone, and traced the carved spiral, and the two deep lines that cut across it. Their home galaxy; and their journey to the Delta Quadrant and back … or at least, that’s what the marks reminded her of.

She was going to give it back to him, probably some time in the spring, when he might be more amenable to seeing her.

**-o0o-**

**On Board Voyager, 2385:**

…For the rest of her life, Kathryn Janeway would count her actions that evening as one of the most stupid things she’d ever said or done.

It had started off as a good week; their course had taken them through a relatively friendly part of space, and they’d had a lot of opportunities to trade or do favours for necessities they’d been running low on.

Some of the items they’d received as a gift were several large cases of a sparkling green wine that tasted like flowers, and was extremely potent. The little sample that she tried had gone straight to her head - so much so that she even had to ask the Doctor for a hypospray when they returned to the ship. She used her captain’s privilege to keep a few bottles aside for herself, and put the rest into secure stasis for special occasions.

Things had also been going well between her and Chakotay. The old friendship was almost getting back to what it was, and there was a glimmer of a promise that they might even become closer. Kathryn was careful about pushing anything with him – he was still very much in love with Seven, and missed her terribly. But he was also, slowly, beginning to let her go.

She began to put certain hopes on a promise of what things could be, but she was not as well prepared for the reality of what actually happened.

One evening, after a few days where the two of them had been more intimate – though nothing serious, just a little more verbal play and flirting than usual – she’d invited him around to her quarters after-shift.

Kathryn had high hopes for that date, and had fortified her courage with a little of the green wine. At first, the flirtatious exchanges they’d shared were fun, and things seemed to be going smoothly.

Then, she did or said something – whatever it was, she couldn’t exactly remember, except that she’d taken things a little too much further than what Chakotay was ready for. He’d suddenly pulled away from her, and she felt shocked and embarrassed when he did so.

The alcohol and other substances in her system from the wine didn’t exactly help her judgement. She’d reacted to his personal boundaries with a curtness born of bruised pride, and decades of frustration. She’d known even then that she was wrong … wrong enough to possibly earn her a formal reprimand when Starfleet would inevitably learn of it during tomorrow’s Pathfinder transmission.

In retrospect, Kathryn knew that, had she’d just excused herself right then and let him go straight home, she would have still had a good chance to mend things between them. Her lapse up to that point was forgivable. What she did next, though, was less so.

“One thing I can’t understand about you,” she’d said to Chakotay, as he was tidying himself up to leave, “is the way you keep hanging on to Seven.”

She would always remember how Chakotay’s face and fingers suddenly froze still when she’d said that.  
“I mean,” she said, unable to control a slight slur in her voice, “she’s been dead for five years. I loved her too, in my own way … but surely it’s not right to keep clinging to her for so long?”

He’d turned around to face her, and before her alcohol-slowed brain could fully register the hurt in his expression, the fatal words tumbled out of her:

“Chakotay … don’t you think it’s time to move on to you and me. There's more to life than Seven.”

The next thing She’d remembered was a large hand suddenly seizing her by a shoulder, and Chakotay’s blazing eyes just inches above hers.

“What … did you say?” he whispered roughly.

“I said …” Kathryn replied, too intoxicated to concede, “… there's more to life than Seven.”  
“Well then,” he’d hissed, roughly letting go of her as he got off her couch. “You can go to hell!”  
“What?” She asked, blinking stupidly in drunken shock.

“I said …,” Chakotay snarled, the pain raw in the hoarseness of his voice; “…. _You. Can. Go. To. Hell!_ Or … if you can’t bring yourself to manage that … _Captain_ … then I suggest that you permit me to go back to my quarters at once, and stay away from me!”

And then he turned around, and stalked out of her quarters without another word - Kathryn’s half-filled wine glass shattering against the door as it slid shut. After that, she’d cried herself to sleep like a chastened little child.

**-o0o-**

**Admiral Janeway’s Office, Starfleet Command, 2404:**

Kathryn called Chakotay again when she got home. When she received no answer, she beamed back over to Mexico City and walked to his flat. The city was currently bearing the brunt of a wild cold front that had passed through San Francisco late yesterday, and even her standard issue umbrella got inverted once or twice.

When she arrived, his door was open. She hesitated at first … and then firmly pressed the door chime, and waited a minute. When nothing happened, she pressed the chime again, and then cautiously stuck her head through the doorway.

“Chakotay?” she called, and received no answer. “Chakotay?” she called again – and waited a little longer. She was about to leave when she heard a door hiss open on the second-floor landing.

“Wow!” … she heard a Scottish-sounding female voice call out from below her, “Admiral… I’d never thought that _you’d_ be the sort to take the stairs instead of the turbolift!”  
Kathryn turned and looked down at a wide-eyed woman in her thirties, who’d just poked her head out her apartment door.

“Um … sorry for bothering you … Admiral Janeway,” the woman said, trying to contain her awkwardness, “… But my younger brother … he’s an ensign in Starfleet … he’s stationed on Starbase Forty Seven … he said he once escorted one of your Voyager crew on a visit … it was Captain Kim and Commander Tal, I think.”

“I might ask Harry about him, next time I see him,” Kathryn replied, “What is your brother’s name?”  
“Ben Sampson,” the woman said. “I’m Maria Sampson, but I’m not in Starfleet. I’m an engineer on a civilian passenger cruiser.”

“What’s the ship’s name?” Kathryn asked, out of polite interest.

“The Pacific IV,” Maria replied. “It mostly does supply and passenger runs, and some hard-mail delivery.”

“Well, let Ben know I send him my regards,” Kathryn said, “and to you as well - you both do a valuable service. But have you seen Chakotay today – the man who lives in the apartment above you?”  
“No,” Maria answered, sadly. “I heard him come out this morning, but he hasn’t been back since.”  
“He left his door still open.”

“Not again!” Maria replied, “He’s done that several times. It’s better not to close it, because sometimes he forgets his codes. I’ll keep a watch on his house until he comes back.”

“Thanks,” Kathryn said, “Well, it’s been good meeting you, but I’ll have to be on my way.”

“I’ll let you go, then,” Maria replied, “but you look like there’s something you want to give him.”  
“I…” Kathryn began to say … then realised that - without thinking, she’d just taken something out of her jacket pocket, and was holding it in her hand. It was Chakotay’s medicine stone that she’d repaired last night. She couldn’t understand why she had it in her pocket now … she was going to wait until spring before giving it back.

“…yes, I do,” she replied. “Its something I borrowed from his medicine bundle. He’ll want it back soon, so I’ll just put it on his table, then I’ll go home.”

“Hope you don’t mind if I escort you, Admiral.” Maria said, “His place is a bit of a bomb site, but I’ve known him to get very paranoid about anything being touched. He might be less grouchy if I told him I was there to keep an eye on you. He’s a bit funny about everybody, even you, Admiral – but he sort-of trusts me … well, more like sometimes he trusts me a little.”

“I understand perfectly,” Kathryn replied. “Please show me in.”

**-o0o-**

**On Board Voyager, Year 2485:**

The morning after, Kathryn logged the incident for submission during the next Pathfinder transmission. She had acted against Starfleet directive by engaging in conduct unbefitting an officer. Submitting a report against herself was, as the captain, the correct thing to do – and she’d hoped that Chakotay had the sense to do the same to back hers up. A starship command team’s integrity had to be upheld, especially in a part of space where they were practically alone.

She’d worded it as objectively as she could, and in the reading and re-reading made sure that Chakotay’s innocence came through clear. There was a murderous pain in her head as she wrote, that would last most of the day - but she fully deserved it, as far as she was concerned, for the callus way she’d allowed her impatience, her drunkenness and her subconscious jealousy to trample over Chakotay’s feelings – and Seven’s memory.

She had no excuse; she’d already known how much he’d needed someone to ease his burden until his grief could pass. Instead, the insult she’d dealt him would now, most likely, keep them apart - and if he went downhill again, this time all he would probably let her do was watch.

But when it was time to send the report to Starfleet, she couldn’t find it. She’d given all her files and personal databases a thorough search to find it, but it was gone – and never again would it reappear.

Weeks later, there was no sign from Starfleet that it had been notified, nor would there ever be – Chakotay had not reported her. Months later, Kathryn would only find traces of her report, and nothing more. The only plausible conclusion she could come to was that someone had deleted it before she could send it to Starfleet – and there was only one other person on the ship who had the access codes to do that.

Afterwards, Chakotay remained coldly civil with her whenever they were on the bridge, in her ready room, or at her conference table - anywhere where their duties required them to work together. He obeyed her orders and offered his suggestions with the same impersonal respect.

Beyond that, he avoided her, and she – growing increasingly tired and bitter herself; soon scaled down her efforts at reconciliation, and let him be. But she could not put away an uneasy sense that Chakotay was dying somehow, though he looked and acted outwardly sound. It was as if every year that passed since Seven’s death quietly scraped a little bit more out of him.

Kathryn silently berated herself as she watched him fade. She could have been there for him, should not have let a jealousy she’d not before admitted to having belittle his continued love for Seven. She should have been less blinkered by her own needs, and less forgetful of his.

If he ever changed his mind and reached out to her … then by every star in the galaxy she’d be there for him. But he no longer wanted her around, so she was forced to keep her concern for him strictly within the bounds of duty.

As for Chakotay, he soon began to spend most of his off-shift time alone in his quarters, or boxing - alone - on the holodeck. He ate by himself, and rarely spoke with others when off-duty. He had lost his inclination for counselling; that role unofficially falling eventually to Ayala.

Commander Barclay had said that it wouldn’t be very long now; there were a number of wormholes ahead that they’d estimated could get them back within five years or les - so long as they could stay a few steps ahead of the Borg, and everything else that was trying to kill them.

Some stupid, naïve part of Kathryn still hoped that coming home to Earth would help to bring him out of it. Another read the signs, and surmised that, if anything, the homecoming would only rob him of his purpose, and he would be lost, without a reason to keep living.

**-o0o-**

**The Starfleet Command Officer’s Bar, 2404:**

“You love him, don’t you?”

Kathryn gave Brackett a hard look. “I’m his friend, and that’s all.” She replied.

“Well, ok,” the other Admiral said, and swirled the cream further into her coffee. Kathryn shut off all thoughts of Chakotay, and instead idly wondered how Brackett could manage to keep her figure, what with the amount of sugar and cream-infused coffee she seemed to consume each day.

“I’ll make a slight change of subject, then,” Bracket proposed, “I heard he’s not been very well, lately.”

“You could say that,” Kathryn agreed, “but I expect him to start making an improvement in the spring, which should be soon. His depression definitely has a seasonal aspect to it.”  
“Maybe he could use some sunlight therapy,” Brackett suggested.

“He’ll need something more than that to make much of a difference,” Kathryn replied, “his problems go very deep, perhaps even deeper than most of us can understand.”

 _It had been winter on the part of that planet where the accident happened_ , she thought, in the brief interval of silence that followed. _It’s always the winter that reminds him the worst._ He'd gotten to the point where if he even saw snow on an away mission, he would come back withdrawn.

“Do you think he’ll ever improve enough to rejoin pthe others a bit more?” Brackett asked, breaking her brief reverie. Kathryn shook her head.

“A big part of Chakotay was left behind back in the Delta Quadrant,” she said, “and I don’t think now that there’s any way that he can get it back. I don’t really know what the future holds for him … but whatever awaits him, I’ll personally make sure that there’ll always be someone around to watch over him.”

 _Spoken exactly like a woman in love_ , Brackett wryly thought, but said nothing more on that. Instead, she finished her coffee as they checked through the captaincy shortlist for another starship that was due for completion.

**-o0o-**

**On Board Voyager, Entering the Alpha Quadrant, 2394:**

When Voyager came within sensor range of the Sol system, a cheer erupted on the bridge that rang through the rest of the ship like a tide. Emotions ran feverishly high that day, and Kathryn remembered even being a little startled when Lieutenant Kim suddenly called her attention.  
“Captain,” He’d said, “I think you should go check on Commander Chakotay.”

She tore her eyes from the blue planet on the viewscreen to look over to her left, and saw that the chair next to hers was empty. He’d left his station without her knowing. “Lieutenant Kim, you have the bridge,” she’d replied, and headed to his quarters.

He didn’t answer her hail, and when she asked the computer for his location, it had said he was in one of the holodecks. She went there, and found his commbadge lying on the ground in the wilderness program he’d run.

Alarmed now, Kathryn ordered the ship computer to conduct a DNA scan for him. It refused, several times, until she could find the right override codes. He was in a cargo bay, standing at a console before an airlock - the same one he’d nearly tried to blow Seven out of once, many years ago.

She wanted more than anything to take the man into her arms, and tell him things would be all right, that they were home now, that he didn’t have to be alone anymore. All the things she knew she could never do with him.

She tried to talk him out of it instead, but Chakotay was determined to go ahead. “Go to Hell!” he’d snarled at her, when he’d become impatient with her reasoned pleas.

Kathryn ordered an override on the airlock, and called security. She walked with him to his quarters, her heart feeling like a heavy stone in her chest. She posted a guard at his door, and ordered the computer to maintain a life signs watch on him. Then she returned to the bridge, where she was needed.

The rest of the shift was a battle to keep her composure. When she wiped at her eyes once or twice or ten times, everyone assumed it was the emotion of homecoming, and nothing more.

**-o0o-**

**Admiral Janeway’s Office, 2404 – four months later:**

She got the message only a few hours before the story hit the news.

They’d found what was left of the body washed up on the shore near the tip of the Baja peninsula. The DNA analysis confirmed its identity, and it had showed traces of upper atmospheric radiation. There were no suspicious circumstances.

The forensic investigators strongly believed that Chakotay had rigged off the safeties on a public transporter booth, and then beamed himself directly into the stratosphere without protection. He’d planned and executed the whole thing meticulously, and had made sure there would be no chance of failure.

The investigators also mentioned in the report they’d given her that the only intact item they’d found on the body was a carved medicine stone in one of the pockets.

The timing was ironic - it was almost three months before the tenth anniversary of Voyager’s return. It had been four years since Chakotay’d last joined Kathryn and the other crew in the celebrations, and now, he would never again return.

The funeral was scheduled for later the same week, as the inquest was expected to be a short one. For a long while after, all Kathryn could do was stare at the list of ship names on her current job list, and vaguely mull over what she was supposed to do with them.

She was still too stunned for tears … but they would come, later.

She felt as though someone had just beamed out her insides, and now had a better idea of what Chakotay must have felt when Seven died. She kept thinking back to the same drunken words she’d uttered that night nineteen years ago, and each time, her guilt burned.

Kathryn had told Bracket four months ago that she wasn’t in love with Chakotay. She knew even back then that she’d lied. The truth was, she’d spent at least the last three decades of her life in love with a slowly dying man, and she couldn’t have stopped it even if she’d wanted to.

**-o0o-**

Many times during their journey through the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay had promised to ease Kathryn’s burden – and usually, he’d kept his word. When it was her turn to ease his burden, she’d stupidly, selfishly blown it.

Now, though, she had an idea that could make things right for a lot of people … and he and Seven were both back on the top of her growing amends list.

When her own grief had become too great, her only solace was to think … and in thinking, Kathryn toyed with that idea until it soon began to take on better form. She started to believe again that there really was something she could do – for Chakotay, for Tuvok, and for about half of the others who’d died on Voyager as well.

She planned the incursion meticulously, though there were times when she had doubts … especially when she thought of little Sabrina, Naomi’s young daughter, who’d been born since the return. She’d often found herself weighing the girl’s existence against those of the others who’d gain from her plan … and each time, she reasoned that there would always a chance that Sabrina would be still born in the changed timeline, whilst the others, in her estimate, had no chance.

Kathryn made her decision, and began to set things in motion. She was quite looking forward to seeing him again, even though when she did, she could never be free to embrace him.

And she had made sure, as she went over every variable, to ensure that when she executed those plans, there would be no chance of failure.

**-End-**


End file.
